


In These Feelings We Share

by orphan_account



Series: Sherstrade Domesticity [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Domesticity, Fluff, Love, M/M, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Greg and Sherlock embrace a rare day of comfort as they lie in bed together. First Sherlock, then Greg, realise that seeing the other comfortable and safe, knowing that they love them, is what matters to them most.





	

Sherlock woke up suddenly but without a startle, without provocation; he was just all of a sudden not asleep anymore. He lay still on his side, staring out into the bedroom, with his right hand cupped up under his cheek on the pillow and his left arm tucked in tightly at his chest. He felt relaxed and warm, cosy beneath the duvet that was pulled up to his shoulder and tucked in around his knees. Behind him, a constant warming and steady weight, was Greg, snoozing still and snoring in contented snuffles into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock considered moving, turning around and looking at Greg so that he could see him when he woke up, but he didn't have the heart to shuffle around and disturb the older man. It had been late when Sherlock had crawled with complete bodily exhaustion into bed last night but it had been even later when Greg had finally stumbled in, enervated, and had fallen immediately asleep with his body curled tight and protective around Sherlock's. Sherlock sighed, contented in the softness of his cocooned enclosure, and moved back just enough to feel even closer to Greg's warm body. He drew the quilt up higher, too comfortable to attend to the insistent nagging of his bladder by leaving his safe space. 

His movement, though, was enough to draw Greg into reality and he woke slowly, carefully coming to, with a deep inhale through his nose and a throaty exhale. The arm he had thrown across Sherlock's slender hip came up to his face and he rubbed at his eyes before gently placing his palm on Sherlock's left shoulder in a tentative yet speculative touch. When Sherlock turned his head, his tangle of curls disarrayed in his eyes, Greg gave a sleepy smile that was immediately returned. 'Morning,' Greg's husky voice was even more sandpapery, sleep-clogged from the dead rest he'd deserved when it had finally arrived. 

Sherlock's lips stretched in a soft smile. 'Morning yourself,' he said, shuffling back further still against Greg's body. 

The older man replaced his arm, pulling Sherlock in around his middle, and held him closely to his chest. 'Sorry I got back later than I intended; I know I promised you dinner, but...' 

'S'okay...' Sherlock interrupted his apology, 'I know that place can't run without you, and your team are eighty percent stupid.' 

'Hey...' Greg caught himself before he laughed, but he couldn't deny Sherlock his opinions. A man with higher standards of expectation in others, Greg had never met, and he often wondered what it was Sherlock saw in him. He wasn't stupid by a long chalk; he knew his stuff, he knew the law... but beside Sherlock, his mind ran drastically short. 'Anyway, it isn't okay. I promised you and I didn't keep it unfortunately. I didn't wake you when I got in, did I?'

Sherlock shook his head, beginning to feel his eyes droop. 'No; I mean, I knew you were back but it didn't disturb me, not in the true sense of the word. I was glad you were home - and I like it when you hold me that way.' 

Greg instinctively pulled Sherlock closer at the validation for touch. 'I like holding you.' he said, his voice delicate all of a sudden as he whispered. Loving words, in Greg's mind, were always more important when they were quiet. He didn't know why. 'Did you sleep well?' he asked into the curls at the base of Sherlock's neck, closing his eyes into the tranquillity and stillness of the quiet morning. 

Sherlock nodded his head and hummed his reply, 'Umm, was good...' He licked his lips, and moved his left hand down to hold over Greg's where it rested warm on the waistband of his pyjama trousers. 'You?' he asked, as his fingers laced into Greg's. 

'Yeah,' Greg said appreciatively, 'Like a fucking log.' Sherlock smiled into his pillow at Greg's response, feeling his body succumbing to that 'whoosh' of comfortable sleepiness that often befell him before he finally went to sleep. He didn't want to return to sleep, but the contentment of his position, and the man at his back, was immeasurable. 'It's a good thing I'm not due in at work until this evening,' Greg spoke and Sherlock found his skin igniting with goosebumps in reaction to the huskiness of the sound as Greg's usual volume returned. 

'Why's 'at?' Sherlock asked, his tongue taking words and forming them only partially, too lazy to try. 

'Because,' Greg said, a little more alive than moments ago, with a smile on his lips, 'getting out of this bed and leaving you right now is not going to happen.' Sherlock grumbled a laugh in his throat, his suddenly sleepy eyes no longer remaining open, and squeezed his hand around Greg's where he held it still on his own hip. Greg eased himself up, leaning on his right elbow, and peered over Sherlock's should to look into his face. 'You sleepin' on me?' he accused playfully. Sherlock gave another throaty noise and nodded his head. Greg felt warmth pool in his abdomen, simultaneously aroused by the young man's pliable manner and endeared to him. 'I wanted a blow-job.' He added in a humourous whisper, and peppered a kissed on Sherlock's shoulder after exposing it by dragging the quilt down in his movement to sit up. 

Sherlock a laughed a little more animatedly, but he made no attempts to return to wakefulness in it's fullest state. '...later...' he said softly, his tongue making the world almost impossible to decipher for those untrained in _Sleepy Sherlock Speak_. 

Greg smiled and continued to kiss, his lips moving up Sherlock's warm skin until his shoulder became his neck, and Greg buried his nose into the curls that flicked and twisted behind his ear. Greg knew if he picked the right spot, somewhere a little lower just inside his collarbone, he would have Sherlock in the palm of his hands. He knew that peppered kisses there, and a gentle tug of his curls would render the man unresponsive and remarkably pliant. But it was a weapon he used well, and one he wasn't about to break out on Sherlock just yet. It was rare that Greg saw Sherlock in a state of complete relaxation that was sexually oriented; Sherlock's mind only ever quietened, truly, during sleep and it was too important to the older man that Sherlock savour those moments when they arrived. 

He withdrew his kisses and lay back down softly behind Sherlock, holding him closely. He could map Sherlock's breathing easily and knew the precise moment when he finally dipped into sleep completely. He held Sherlock close to him, loving the familiar smell, the weight he knew well, and the sound of his breaths. He lay still and quiet, not wanting to disturb the younger man, and closed his eyes. Comfort, he thought, had never come so close to defining love as in this moment.


End file.
